Glenda

“Okay, let’s say God punishes me for misplaced anger. Anna is not to blame for anything… Except for the cold, belated tea.”

Glenda calmed herself by swallowing a lemon with a crust. “Vitamin C is a very useful thing. At least I won’t get sick from the Norwegian winds.”

Christiane Lacroix again merged with her thin hand and the girl continued to write.

“Father, I sold my soul to the devil: I was so close to unearthing the dirtiest case in London, but they offered me money to leave me behind. It was a note from a criminal with an offer for a million pounds, just a minute.

And I would refuse, I’m not a corrupt bitch. Oh, sorry.

You never liked me to swear.

So, it’s all Gerard’s fault — my future husband. Can you imagine, that evening I returned home, and he was licking between the bitch’s legs. Do you remember Linda, my childhood friend?”

Glenda was seething with anger.

“Understand, I had no choice but to take this money to get out of damn London. I loved him.”

The disposable paper handkerchief was already completely wet and turned into a sticky lump, but a new series of tears required help. Luckily, a napkin was provided with the tea.

Glenda blew her nose and began to write further.

Suddenly the ink completely spilled onto the paper.

Suddenly the light in the cabin went out treacherously. People's faces were illuminated only by flashes of lightning. The pale yellow highlights were reminiscent of a post-mortem photograph. For a moment it seemed to her that the passengers were covered in blood. The wild horror of what she saw shook her being.

The plane took a giant leap. For a matter of seconds, Glenda lost consciousness. When I woke up, the light in the cabin was on again, and the morning sun was already shining outside the window. The storm front was successfully passed. Fortunately, the impact on the shelf was barely noticeable.

— Apparently, there is something wrong with the neck vessels. I read in a medical encyclopedia that this happens. You can lose consciousness and even fall asleep if the carotid and vertebral arteries are compressed. — she turned with relief to her seatmate who had woken up. To Glenda's surprise, he answered.

— Yes, miss. You could have sprained your neck here. I read it too, albeit in other sources. — he straightened up, as happens when you suddenly remember that this is an important person in front of you, or you just want to show off in front of a young woman. — Iver Larsen from Copenhagen. Nice to meet you. — a man of about forty-five with a beautiful Greek nose extended his right hand as if he had only dreamed of doing this the entire flight. Surprisingly, he wasn’t so kind when landing, he didn’t even help her carry her bags upstairs.

— Glenda Miller from London, now from Copenhagen. I'm planning to buy a house there.

“Why am I telling him everything? Maybe I miss communication so much that I’m ready to pour out my soul even to strangers? Well, he is handsome, strong build, light brown, somewhere ashy hair, gray-blue eyes. Typical Scandinavian, but very attractive. A little old, but there is something so familiar about it. I think he can be trusted. Fortunately, there is no ring on my finger.”

While all this heap of thoughts ran through her naturally beautiful, but tired from sobbing, head, Glenda drank the juice that that same inattentive flight attendant Anna had so kindly served.

Iver also slowly sipped a Coca-Cola and looked over the seats towards the pilot’s cabin.

“Something happened there five minutes ago, as if we were in a dangerous zone, something like the center of a thundercloud, into which the plane is forbidden to fly.”

— You were asleep, weren't you?

— Yes, but I have good hearing. Coming out of the cockpit, the flight attendant forgot to close it for a moment, and I heard a couple of remarks.

— And what did you hear? — Glenda asked almost with delight. Her body pulled closer to the speaker, her face burned with interest, and goosebumps ran across her skin. This happens to children when, on a late autumn evening, their grandmother tells creepy stories in an armchair by the fireplace. You seem to be scared, but you feel so comfortable, because there is someone nearby who will save you from all the monsters of the world.

– “Branch of Hell.” We can't get around. We are walking straight into the face of death…

— What, that’s what they said?

— Yes. I reproduced it exactly.

— What a nightmare. What else have you heard? — No matter how hard she tried, the bloody faces could not leave Glenda’s head. Still, she managed to overcome herself and push away the terrible memories for a while.

— Nothing, then the light went out, and then everything cleared up.

— Marvelous. So does this mean we have passed death?

— One hundred percent.

— Lucky ones. I think this is a sign! — A sign? Which one?

— Today I was in such a decline that life was not nice to me. And now, having almost lost her, I understand that no guys in the world can deprive me of my thirst for life.